


Kiss Me Awake

by amber_sword_lilies



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Mild Self Esteem Issues, Very Mild Panic Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 21:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16480238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amber_sword_lilies/pseuds/amber_sword_lilies
Summary: The boy's decide to put a little innocent sugar on their sleeping partner, and have to play it cool when they wake.





	1. Noctis

“Does she always look like that when she’s asleep?”

“Dude, your girl, you should know,” Prompto chimed, receiving a disciplinary glare from Ignis for his volume. He continued in a whisper. “I mean you’ve really never seen her sleep?”

“No…”

Gladio shut the trunk of the Regalia with the softest thunk he could manage. “Not surprising with how much you sleep.”

Noctis was about to respond when you stirred, alarming him enough that he took a firm grasp of Prompto’s elbow. You tensed before settling back to sleep, curled in the back seat of the car. He jumped when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“Be a gentleman and bring her in,” Gladio instructed, turning and following the others to the outpost motel you’d marked on the map earlier. A tent was fine and all, but a bed? You could scarcely remember what they felt like after three weeks on the road. The opportunity of a hot shower was not to be sniffed at either.

Alone and unsure, Noct made the executive decision to try to wake you up. He was about to begin tickling your neck when you stirred again, a soft frown creeping onto your expression. Standing at the side of the Regalia, outside the door nearest your head, he was lost in thought. On one hand, you’d be inside within minutes if he woke you. On the other, he’d never seen you sleep before. Usually his hours of slumber began before and ended after your own.

This was a rare sight for him. You looked so peaceful, the frown gently fading as the dream sweetened. The soft mumbles that left your lips were beginning to sound an awful lot like his name. He leant down, lightly brushing away a strand of your hair.

‘Be a gentleman.’

He stopped, his lips hovering a few inches from yours.

I’m not a gentleman.

I’m a prince.

His lips pressed to yours with all the softness of a fairy tale. Until you batted him in the face.

Eyes wide open, the two of you stared at each other. The growing confusion on your features made his stomach flip.

“Why are you so close?”

Play it cool, Noct. Play it cool.

“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We’re here,” he said, with all the calm suaveness he could manage.

You grumbled and sat up, wincing at a twinge in your neck.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, nothing a hot shower won’t fix,” you sighed into a smile and clambered from the car. He huffed a laugh before locking the car and taking your hand.

“Yeah… I think Prompto might’ve beaten us to it,” he grinned, walking towards the motel. He wrapped his arm around your waist and leant to whisper in your ear. “Luckily, I got us a separate room.”


	2. Prompto

He’d been in the bathroom for hours. You’d fallen asleep wrapped in each other’s arms again and he’d been in heaven; floating on the cosmos of your touch, scent, where every breath was the steady pulsing light of some distant star.

In the dim light of your bedroom, the shadows had slipped into his mind.

_You don’t deserve her._

He’d shaken his head, pinned it down to tiredness and tried to sleep. Hours passed. Dark thoughts chewed at him, sprinting past him like wolves. Too nervous to come close; too menacing to be harmless. Too familiar for him to close his eyes. He’d stared at the ceiling until the abyss swallowed it.

So here he was. Again. Leaning against the wall and trying to ground himself. He could see the shampoo bottles, the toilet, the showerhead, the toothbrushes and in the mirror… The tiles were cool and smooth under his fingers, the bathmat was plush, but his shirt was stifling him. He could…

He couldn’t.

The silence of the apartment made him unwelcome. He padded as quietly as he could, collecting his things and throwing them into his bag. His camera was on your bedside table, resting there after sharing its secrets with the two of you. Every moment he’d thought to document, up until now. There would be no pictures of the times he couldn’t bear to stay with you anymore. No pictures of just the two of you, like he belonged with you. You don’t belong with her… she deserves better.

Breath shaking, he picked his camera up, wrapping the strap around his wrist. You’d begun to stir, searching the sheets for him. Moonlight flooded in through the window, unhindered by curtains you’d been too distracted to close. It washed over you and for a moment he was convinced that he was the only photographer who knew about a silver hour. When the moon cast the remnants of golden hours back down, soft and smooth as satin. You glowed in it.

Remembering to breathe, he took a trembling and counted lungful.

_Don’t do it._

_I want to._

_Don’t._

_I need to._

He leant over you and planted a quick but careful kiss to the edge of your lips, too conflicted to meet them head on. His eyes fell shut. Every fibre of his being screamed to tear away from you, but he couldn’t do that. Not yet.

“Prom?” you croaked, a sleepy hand finding his hair. You blinked the darkness away and searched his features. The trembling pout, the knitted brows. You knew this look. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head weakly, avoiding your eyes. Excuses and explanations caught in his throat, escaping as whispered stammers.

“Prompto.”

Your tone pulled his gaze to you. Crystal blue eyes had faded and paled, lost their spark, all whilst you’d slept.

“Please stay,” you whispered, running your hands through the pale, fine strands of his hair. After a moment, he began to nod and whisper.

“Okay.”


	3. Ignis

Flicking the rain from his umbrella, Ignis dragged himself to the door. Whilst turning his key, his eyes caught on his watch. It was past midnight. He shook his head and slipped into the apartment.

He mentally cursed when the door locked obnoxiously loudly. There was still so much to do. There were a dozen reports, if not more, due for meetings tomorrow; an extra sparring session with the Marshal, arranged to improve his skills with the lance again, not to forget the council meeting he was due to attend with Noctis in tow. In the morning.

_As if I didn’t have enough on my plate…_

At the mere thought, his stomach grumbled. He cursed it and padded through the silent abode, eventually blinking in the light of the refrigerator. A yawn pulled his body taut, before loosening him again. He reached for an Ebony; for what would surely be the first of many tonight. His hand met paper.

_Eat first._

He sighed into a fond smile at your writing, and folded the note into his pocket. Still, he cracked open a can, deciding that cold coffee would better settle his stomach and nerves, not to mention relieve the impending headache. It would refresh and caffeinate him enough to barrel through the reports within the next hour, only to crawl into bed for another four before he’d wake to that damned alarm again. He hadn’t seen you awake in three days now.

After two hours, his resolve cracked and his hands were shaking too much to write legibly. Ignis Scientia called it a night.

One quick run-through of his nightly routine and he was folding himself into the sheets as carefully as he could. You shuffled. He froze, swivelling his head to you slowly as you turned over, weakly reaching over the sheets in search of him. He breathed a silent sigh of relief that grew into another yawn as he set his glasses on the bedside table, rubbing at bleary and dry eyes. When he opened them to look at you, he had a single overwhelming thought.

_I miss you._

Long, fine fingers combed gently through your hair, brushing it back from your face. The soft sound you made in protest made his lips part. His gaze lingered on your lips, wondering what they felt like these days. If you must do it, do it quickly. Don’t wake her.

His lips were on yours in an instant. It was a chaste, sweet kiss that was returned halfway through. Your hand came to cup his cheek as you pulled away.

“Why-?”

“I miss you, Y/N,” he blurted in a whisper. “I miss you terribly.”


	4. Gladiolus

He knew better than to wake you up this early, really, he did. The sun had barely risen, throwing peachy tones through the blinds. Soft light pooled around you in the sheets, and he ached to crawl back into bed, to warmth and embrace. Too early. Don’t even think about it. But the way your lips fell into a pout when you slept… He never could resist that. He crouched by the edge of the bed, fresh from the shower, and barely hesitated before brushing his lips against yours.

Still buzzing with adrenaline after his run, it was less of a peck and more of a misjudged smash. Heavy eyelids pulled open, bringing him into focus.

“What’re you up to?”

He didn’t skip a beat.

“Thought we could have breakfast together for once,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyelashes tickled against your cheeks as you breathed him in. He was fresh and clean; his musk an undertone to the sharp cool scent of his shower gel.

“What’s on the menu?”

“I dunno, what’re you making?”

“Oh, get lost,” you groaned, gently pushing his shoulder away.

He took your hand and used it to pull you upright. Your eyes sank shut again, already missing the warmth of the bed. You leant forward and rested a heavy head on his shoulder. “I made dinner.”

“Alright,” he laughed gently, the deep chuckle echoing from his chest like bubbling coffee. He pressed his lips to your temple. “How do you like your eggs again?”

You pulled your head back to shoot him a disapproving look. He merely shrugged and raised an eyebrow.

“With a hot cup of coffee,” you croaked, nodding slowly at the thought of the steaming mug that would serenade you into full consciousness. “Other than that, surprise me.”

“Can do, babe,” he smirked. You felt the mattress rise when he stood, then the thickness of his arms slipping under you before you could lie back again. He picked you up with a chuckle.

“Oh, come on,” you protested, leaning into his shoulder as he carried you, bridal style, to the kitchen.

He set you down on the counter and stood in front of you. A smug grin had fixed on his face as you struggled to stay conscious, let alone upright, as you began your rant.

“First you keep me up all damn night with your snoring, then you wake me up at the-.”

He interrupted you with a deep kiss that had you feeling a whole different kind of dizzy.

“Stay awake until after breakfast and I’ll make it worth your while.”


End file.
